Deluded Your Sailors (29 page)

Lead me to your boat, then.

Head counted guns.
Dauntless
was a sixth-rate frigate, then, ship of the line if need be, but also small enough for swift errands.

She'd likely carry a commander rather than a full captain in wartime; a full captain might consider the posting an insult or a step backwards. Men worked repairs on high masts and spars, and a dozen red-coated Marines drilled in the stern. Head declined the sea-chair and instead climbed aboard, impatiently explaining he'd sailed from age nine to twenty-four and made captain himself, thank ye, glancing back a moment to the frail Salem docks.

Polished and holystoned,
Dauntless
gleamed.

Kelly took Head below through brown shadows to the captain's day cabin and bade him wait inside.

Already there: Jericho Gosse, hands folded in front of him on the table, his face greasy and disturbed. His jaw hung slack, and his nose ran freely. His bright and darting eyes set upon Newman Head.—I knew you'd come and get this all straightened out. Head, they're after
Kittiwayke
.
Kittiwayke
. I own – The ship's captain entered, the lieutenant following.

—I am Captain Cleasby, commander of His Majesty's ship
Dauntless
.

Cleasby carried himself with not only command, as did Kelly, but with a blatant sense of entitlement to that command.

Impatience, anger and desire marked his face. Head immediately knew he'd no wish to please this man.

Gosse got to his feet, but Head leaned his arse on the table and folded his arms across his chest. Kelly goggled at him a moment, nearly dropping the charts he carried furled under his arm. He made to speak again, but Cleasby got a word in first.

—You've met Lieutenant Kelly.

Kelly pointed with his free arm. —Captain, this is the colonist Jericho Gosse, former majority owner of
Kittiwayke
. It turns out – Cleasby gave a slight sneer.

—It turns out that Gosse has sold
Kittiwayke,
in part to this merchant, Newman Head.

Captain Cleasby nodded at each of them in turn. —His Majesty thanks you for your help in this matter. The charts, Mr Kelly. Head, I will be much in your debt if you would show us
Kittiwayke
's routes.

—Why?

—Because I ask it.

—But why?

Jericho Gosse tried to laugh and managed a yelp. —Because they think Matt Finn's a pirate.

Captain Cleasby pointed to the chart. —Please, Head,
Kittiwayke
's routes.

—Folly. Matt Finn is as much a pirate as I am.

Pretending to study the chart, Lieutenant Kelly looked up.

—Stolen some gold, have you?

Gosse yelped again.—Molasses, more like. I'll show you.
Kitti-wayke
runs Salem to St John's, Newfoundland, stopping sometimes at Boston first, then Harbour Grace – also Newfoundland. Then tis all speed for the Indies.

Head rolled his eyes; how had he ever called this cur his friend?

—Captain Cleasby, if you've got Gosse to show you, why do you need me?

—To confirm it.

Gosse tried leaning back in the chair, forgetting it was bolted down.—You think me unreliable? But I have no reason to lie and deceive you gentlemen. Head does.

Captain Cleasby looked to the merchant. —Know you of the stolen gold, Head?

—Tis ‘Mr Head,' I thank ye. And I am no liar and no pirate.

Nor have I truck with suchlike. The only thief with whom I've suffered intimacy sits right here with dirt beneath his nails and leaves stuck to his hair.

Lieutenant Kelly looked to his captain, who nodded. Kelly then spoke to Gosse. —Share with Mr Head the facts you have shared with us.

Gosse stretched as though waking from a sweet nap to a sweeter day.—Matt Finn bought
Kittiwayke
from me. Cuntspliced me to be sure, but he paid with gold – gold, Head – small papist idols, medallions, coins and dust. Mark me, I know not whether that gold was stolen, but I also know not where a man such as Matt Finn gets that amount of gold, and that after already spending some for repairs to
Kittiwayke
. No, I am not saying Finn stole that gold. I am saying Finn stole my reputation. And reputation here is like currency, can't do business without it. Matt Finn does not understand business. Expenses. Balances. The tricky flow of money. When Finn offered to purchase
Kittiwayke
, he showed me gold. That was the night I proposed I cut him a share of
Kittiwayke
's profits. Finn and I disputed. See, I fear not to admit it. I could just deny it, but no, I own up: Finn and I disputed. I owned
Kittiwayke
. Well, majority-owned her. I designed her tidily and saw her built well, at extra expense. But I ran into trouble. Finn never understood that. Pestering me for repairs when
Kittiwayke
sailed sound as my heart. We'd already lost
Oak Leaf
, and she took payment for
Kittiwayke
's lead bum with her. Then
Apple Bough
disappeared. With only
Kittiwayke
left, I'd debts so high I could never see over them. So it needed be that I borrow against the merchants. As I said, Captain Cleasby, tis all out now between Head and me. He knows I did borrow from him. Short shipment here and there. I would pay them back, and that right quickly. Finn fussed about repairs and what he'd paid for. Then he threatened me. Won't sail without repairs, said Matt Finn. Then he said he'd sail
Kittiwayke
to Boston and take out a bummary.

Well, no man's going to mortgage
my
sloop, never mind repairs, so I said ‘Come visit me. I will propose a plan to you. See if we cannot square up?' So he came to visit, and I explained my inner arrangements and offered him a right fair cut. Do you know what he said? He said ‘No.' He said he'd buy my share of
Kittiwayke
off me first and only, that being the price of his silence about me borrowing against the merchants.

I named him a ridiculous price that included what the merchants owed me. Finn cut it in half. ‘Tis all to buy my silence,' said he. We dealt a little more, and then Finn said ‘Surfeit.' Then, delicate like the spider, he worked loose that ancient cloth bag he wears over his chest. Called it a nunny bag. Never did I suspect he carried such a treasure in it. He opened that bag and poured out some of the gold so it shone like fire on the table. ‘Draw up the papers,' said he, ‘and meet me at Morrow's at noon.' I nodded, and I could not stop myself from reaching for the gold. Finn blew out the candle. By the time I got it lit again, Finn had gone.

Deserted me. And took his gold with him. Next morning, too sick a sudden to rise from my bed, I could not meet Finn, nor send him any message. I got down to the docks the next day, to set things right with Finn, only to hear the tale of how I hired Martin Sikes to throttle him and then steal the nunny bag. Matt Finn might be a little weed of a gelding, but he is no man to anger, for he scolds like a maddened bluejay. Most of Salem knew his story afore I'd even shaved.

I got to
Kittiwayke
, but Finn, who liked to live on board her even in home port, refused to see me. I left word with Pilgrim that I should await Finn at Morrow's, with the papers. Seemed every man in Salem frowned at me that day. Even the children ducked away. Finn gave over the nunny bag and the gold and took ownership of
Kittiwayke
. Excepting my creditors, I did little more business after that day.

Kelly and Cleasby glanced at each other, and Kelly asked it:

—Finn owns
Kittiwayke
?

Newman Head frowned.
Gosse, you viper.
—Quite a yarn you've spun for the Royal Navy, Gosse. And where lies all this wondrous gold now?

—I'm coming to that. Remember the cloth bag? The lieutenant there, he's much interested in that bag, so I gave the rags of it back to him. Creditors were asking me to melt the family gold, but I'd long since spent that. So I had the nunny bag treasure melted instead: rings and figurines and coins. Then the creditors came, someone telling them I had enough gold to pay my debts, and they divvied it up. But the dust, the dust in the bag, I kept that. I know now why Finn wore it.

I walked early one morning, the bag sweet and heavy in my hand. I cupped it, sniffed it. I tripped. Easterlies that day. Being much rotted by old blood and sweat, the cloth burst. The easterly took the gold like it was dust from the ground and swirled it afore my eyes, whereat it glittered and blew away.

Head let out a long breath.

Gosse sniffed again and glanced at Head as though expecting a kerchief. None came. —As I said before, Lieutenant, I am prepared to swear this in a court. And think on this. If Matt Finn wore just that little sack round his neck, what all else has he stashed on board
Kittiwayke
? He rarely leaves her, not even in port. Tis said he'd almost rather freeze come winter than take a bed on land.

Lieutenant Kelly looked now to Newman Head. —Finn stole that gold. A young man then, short and high-voiced, called Kit, said to have been eunuched in Barbary. Green eyes and a heavy brow. Indentured to a man in England who desires both the return of the gold and the return of his servant. Have you anything to add, Mr Head?

Silence.

Lieutenant Kelly ducked and rounded the room until he stood beside Head, who still leaned on the table. —Mr Head, I am now telling you far more than I have direct leave to do. In effect, the prize was stolen from the King, and it must be recovered, even a portion of it. The prize is more than currency, sir: it is essential to the King's business abroad.

Gosse leaned forward now, all polite attention. —Isle of Benvolio, is it?

Lieutenant Kelly interrupted Cleasby to answer Gosse.—How knew you so?

Cleasby frowned. —Mr Kelly.

—A moment. Sir. Gosse, give over. When did – Captain Cleasby spoke as he might to a fierce child wielding a candle. —Mr Kelly, I will remind you who commands here.

Gosse wiped his nose with his sleeve. —Sure, all Salem right well conceits Matt Finn's been to Benvolio. Or is it Barbary what matters here?

—Barbary. You hear, Captain Cleasby? How much more proof of my mission do you require?

—One man's words prove naught, Lieutenant.

—My orders come directly through the Admiralty.

—Your orders, sir, surely include discretion and submission to my authority.

—No, sir. My orders – —Stink of policy and will not be discussed before talkative landsmen!

Head's stomach clenched tight. Witnessing such eroded discipline between captain and officer chilled him.
Avert your mind,
man.
Cleasby turned to Head.—Can you share anything at all useful regarding Matt Finn?

—I can share with you that which you do not know. Captain Finn is a conscientious and fair man, much possessed by the cocksure ingenuity that gets things done. He can read and write and navigate. Unlike certain others in Salem, Captain Finn enjoys a rich reputation and much respect. He pays up on time and tells the truth, even when tis unpalatable. Being much concerned with fairness, he sees his sailors get a bonus when warranted, which is frequent, they being eager to please their captain. He has never harassed a female, nor has he staggered about drunk and fit to be stocked. It comes to this, Captain Cleasby: Captain Finn works hard, squares up, hurts none. What more is required of a man?

Neither Cleasby nor Kelly answered him.

—Now I'll be obliged to both yourself and the lieutenant if you could see to row me back ashore.

Head and Gosse, sitting back to back in the jollyboat, returned to the docks. Head walked directly to his warehouse, shut the door behind him, and sat at his desk, unable to work. Gosse slowly walked back to his unfinished shack.

Molasses dribbled over the lips of the critch on Head's table the September evening Finn and Pilgrim joined him for supper.

The invitation to Pilgrim and Finn sparked a frenzy of cleaning and cooking, and, on Rachel's part, dedicated supervision of the servants. Rachel ran the house with an efficiency even Head found fearsome, and he'd tried to find a way to tell Rachel her dead mother would approve. Instead, around four in the afternoon, he requested she be at her liveliest tonight, for his guests needed happy company. Sweaty and limp, Rachel glared at him.

Finn and Pilgrim arrived pale and thirsty. Head blamed their state on being greeted at the docks with the news that the Royal Navy sought
Kittiwayke
and Captain Finn. Rachel did her best to stir laughter, and all behaved merrily throughout the meal, but when Finn, Pilgrim and Head moved to the merchant's study, the three dropped their smiles like masks.

Con Pilgrim spoke first. —Where did
Dauntless
put in for supplies?

Newman Head sat down heavily and clicked his tongue. —I know not. I should have victualled him out, made some money.

Finn, tell me, what is so important that the Navy has come to Salem seeking you? Why do they say you've stolen from the King?

—Everyone in this house has stolen from the King.

—How dare you, sir? God save the King!

Finn pointed at Head's mouth. —Molasses stuck to your lips.

Will you suck it off?

—Aye, but that's Parliament. Molasses be not thievery but protest.

Pilgrim spoke softly. —Has not first the King stolen from us with unreasonable taxes?

—Not another syllable, Con Pilgrim, not in my house.

The mood chilled.

Finn sighed, sounding very tired. —These Navy men will not steal my freedom from me. Will they steal yours?

Newman Head could not meet Finn's hard gaze. He looked instead at Pilgrim, who in turn studied the floor.

Squinting in the candlelight, Head considered how shadows changed a man.

—Who is ‘Kit' Finn? Your brother?

—Is this all of a cause of Kit Finn? Tis a name I heard on Benvolio.

—And was he – were you both – the injury – Finn made a great show of standing up and backing away until blocked by the study door.